the colour harmony!!

She heard the front door open At midnight twelve. He is back, from his prolonged business trip That cost him a divorce and a bitter mouth. Her grandma had said, Its exact midnight when, The He-god passed their courtyard On Friday nights Dragging a chain Pulled to his ankle They sat there on the portico She counting the rose buds And he untying the shoe lace Years dragged between them, jerking Like the squeaky kitchen drawer. He indexed the strangeness Clinging to his shoulder bag While she sketched The alien features of the little one Sleeping inside. Her dry washed skirts Lay on the backyard poles Drenched in the night rain. She dreaded, The man-god passing would curse If water drips over his face As he crosses over. Words lay scattered Beneath his cigarette smog Like onion peels In that bright wet night. She felt relieved For the silence that came over As a new born babe. At least, now she needn’t explain How she balanced Coffee mugs...

That’s where the road turned left, behind the thatched tea stall. Lemons, yellow grape bunch, hung from net bags, swinging like breasts, hanging. Smoke stained tooth and coal taint pots shared the same old sequel, of men missing and women birthing in the dark damn holes of their inhabited forest land. A race is born, another one, of bundled invalids. Human documents of swinish beings. They war for a home and decay for a nation In between trade secrets of political wellbeing. They breed day and night, an army of fantasies. Procreating benchmarks of a human kind, Unregistered, and crawl beneath the annals of history devoid a stamped belongingness of fathers born and land-marks puberal. Outside the glitzy highways of pork and rap, flesh and wine they form a nation, Castrated.            * Remembering the land rights struggles of the displaced in Chengara (in Kerala) and elsewhere...

the only thing unusual about the day was that i met him. and as people all over say, every thing toppled overnight. this time i guess, from toe to head. the day struck me permanently blind of my in laws culinary tastes and hubbys favourite shoes. i forgot to water the barren pot at the first floor balcony that made good luck peep in through the velvet curtains. at beakfast table and later at the kitchen sink i stared at the after meal dishes to find a route map of licked up desires of exhausted taste. i couldd cook up so many as now i claimed to be in love, that came late yet so very different from the domestic one thrusted upon me like a second AC upper berth reservation ticket in a night train. i had loved and lost (and even forgotten the names and peoples too ) so many a time, so much so that i often had hallucinations of love ghosts from bygone births. may be thats why i was not so keen or rather tensed whn i knew i was about to fall in love , once again.(and that ...

I went to see A man dying. He lived in a sea side graveyard Among random pines and Disciplined tombs Legs stretched and head scratched He spat on the wind blowing. Once he lived in the mountain blues and rock side caves Made love with the banyan beauty and invoked his dark sharp lady. They walked down vineyards green Narrow straits of full night moon. He was raped At the waterfalls Naked woods Danced around His sunburnt passion. He was lame When he moved again To tree top heights or lake side shines With evergreen moths or dragonflies. The man was stripped Of his yellow skin As he crossed the bony bridge To his sand white eternity. Last day At the deep blue graveyard He fed his heart To seagulls mating And his toes to red ants marching. In the shore line silhouettes Of dry bit mist I saw pigeons flying As he lay dying.

Her earliest memory hangs over her wish to stab her grandma sleeping beside So that, Her mom would come back for the funeral. She found her lost, like an arrow in search of its prey on those belly marks of parched earth labyrinths A spider crawled, on the opposite wall, dragging its egg white halo. Posterity huddled, Underneath. Tomorrow, it shall burst in the kitchen sink like sprinkled salt, over mushrooms bleached. Street light poured in through the murky ventilator, the golden elevator, from the heavens She flew out of her grandma’s mosquito net to pick up a forlorn star, to shine above as she red paints her marbles Sparkling silver.